


The slightest pinch

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Broken Bones, Dad!Tony, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Needles, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Son!Peter, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Peter's kidnapped in an attempt to have his powers duplicated, the needles being the worst part of his torture. Luckily his father and Uncle Rhodey come to take him home.{Guy's my lovely editor is doing her own amazing work and doesn't have the time to edit. Which is why 'A silhouette hallowed in light' is taking so long, if you're interested in volunteering there's more info inside!}





	The slightest pinch

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys, I'm looking for volunteer editors, my own special one is busy and can't edit so I can't upload anything which is why a 'a silhouette hallowed in light' is taking so long. I need some help in editing the chapters for that story, and as for now two other one-shots I have ready. 
> 
> So just leave a comment if you're interested, and let me know if you do have experience in editing-being a beta, for someone! Since I'd prefer people with actual experience, and if you are editing "A silhouette...." please don't spoil for others!
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE, I LOVE YOU ALL

Again, he woke to calloused hands pulling him off the floor and dragging him down the desolate halls. His body trembled in their grasp, his arms hurt in their grip. Both arms suffered a buckle fracture from the constant impacts of being thrown to the floor and trying to catch himself.

Within the sodden cell, he'd been confined to, moisture had bled into his lungs. And over time that grime had infected the organs, pneumonia he assumed, but these men didn't seem to care. They'd taken him in hopes of duplicating his powers but he could see their frustration with each dead end they'd reached.

Maybe they'd kill him if they figured out he'd been a waste of their time. It wasn't likely though. 

The cool air danced over his arms and legs, his T-shirt and boxers not thick enough to keep the air from seeping in and coating his bruised ribs. His pale skin had been painted fern green and a violet purple, which created a vast galaxy when a sky blue joined the mix. The blue is always what stole the teen's attention, it was the most uplifting color he'd seen among the grey walls and steel tables.

Speaking of which, he quickly approached another of the tables, the metal restraints attached made his eyes water in fear of what was to come next.  The tiny table of equipment nearby is what forced the tears down his cheeks. It sat with a dozen needles of varying sizes and thicknesses.

"No, no, no please," He begged as they plopped him on the table, moving him across its length, and pulling his legs to the end and locking them in. The two men moved to each side of the table, grabbing a wrist. Each pull causing him to whine.

Continuing to scream, Peter hated as he was made to sit up. Until they pushed him forward, crossing his arms and using his aching but flexible muscles to push his fingers over his toes before clamping the limbs down.  He cried out hoarsely and coughed feeling of his organs burning. A shiver spiked through his body when a new person walked in, white coat and gloves shining.

Before he had a chance to look at the man's face, a clamp held his neck down. Leaving him bent in half as his shirt was lifted, exposing his back. His back was also mottled with bruises and the impressions of rough hands jostling him. He'd gotten thinner, ribs peaking lightly through his skin. In this position, his slightly thinned hair hung before him, but otherwise gave him a good view of his chest and ribs.

He'd almost forgotten all about the needles until he felt a largest one at the base of his spine pressing in agonizingly slow, crunching into his bone as he was unable to move away from the feeling that spread throughout him.

His limbs shook as the pulse fell through him before it began to choke his body. His chest, his blood. His lungs verged on collapse but more needles plunged into various places: Over his shoulder blades, around his hips, A few dipping between his ribs and dancing over his sides.

The sensation of pain overwhelming him to the point of stillness, eyes opened with a blank stare. His blue and bloodied lips parted in the slightest as he just breathed in utter agony for what felt like ages. Tears fell across his legs before he'd been unclipped and unfolded. The movement making him scream, as any traces of what had been flowing throughout his body disappeared. It left him battered and bruised with many large puncture marks to match. He was being dragged once again to the dingy little room, where he'd been thrown to the floor.

With the pain in his arms, he'd stopped trying to catch himself, letting his chin take the blow, accidentally biting his tongue, and spitting the resulting liquid out. Peter curled in on himself and shuttered at the ground caressing his exposed ribs causing his weak and trembling fingers to pull his shirt back down the best he could.

But the thin material wasn't enough to keep him warm as he shivered. He hugged his arms to his chest in an attempt to stay warm, eyes fluttering until the hazy black dots that begun to cloud his vision took over and engulfed him in the darkness.

\---

Waking again to what very well might be a new day, he was being dragged again, whilst a conversation was spoken between the two men.

"Boss says it's not worth it, he's gonna mind swipe him. One of a kind is worth more I assume," Peter trembled at the words. No, he didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget his father, Iron Man, and didn't want to forget the things he could be. He didn't want to be used to hurt anyone, especially if he'd be used against his father.

"No please," He mumbled, trying desperately to move away from their grasp momentarily relieved to have moved past the needle room, Peter feared the next open door.  A chair sat surrounded by machines and Peter shouted in agony before he coughed hard enough to burn his chest and momentarily stop his breathing.

The men harshly flung him onto it before locking him in, the scientist returned and shoved something into his mouth before locking his head in. Attaching electrodes to his temples, the man's other hand moved to rest on the lever. War-Machine blasted the man back before his fingertips even grazed it. He rushed forward and took the other two men down. Stepping toward the younger hero, the colonel moved forward to release the sobbing teen. He collected him into his arms and contacted his friend.

Tony looked up from his own pursuit of the second warehouse, jetting out of the roof and pushing the suit to its limit. He found them soon enough, armor falling from his skin as Rhodey looked at him. Rhodey pressed his nephew into his friend's arms, who curled protectively around the boy.

"I'm here Bambi," Tony assured, rubbing his arm over the boy's back causing him to squirm. Stilling, Tony let Peter cling to him in a way that he assumed hurt less. Rhodey called the medics, watching as the family of Starks clung to one another. Tony let his calloused hands wander over Peter's arms and face, frowning at the bruises. Peter whined when his father accidentally pressed on the broken bones causing the elder to pull away.

His thumb moved to trace Peter's blue lips and wiping the blood off the cut and then brushing the tears off his cheeks. Tony looked down and gulped at the sight of Peter's pale legs. Scraped and bruised, dried with blood painted down his limbs from the cuts. They were dirty, they would need to be cleaned and it made the elder hero even antsier. Fretting as he carefully lifted Peter's shirt, tears pooled in his eyes as he saw his son's ribs and chest.

The teen stopped his crying, blankly looking away as his father moved and looked at his back. 

"It's okay Peter Pan," Tony whispered, hearing the medics down the hall. The boy didn't respond, carefully cowering when they entered afraid of all the prodding he'd already endured, and what was next to come.

"It's okay," Tony continued to coo, his chin resting on his son's head, keeping him still as the medics flocked to him. Peter cried again when they came, afraid. And Tony understood, blocking them lightly, before instructing their actions as not to overwhelm the child. The younger Stark was carefully taken away on a gurney, his father holding his hand and wiping his eyes.

\---

Rhodey had taken over the investigation and the men's sentencing, ensuring Spider-Man's secrecy and letting the little family recover without any hassle.  Tony cradled Peter to his chest, looking over the boy's chart. He was thankful to see the drugs he'd been pumped with wouldn't have any lasting effects. 

The teen had gauze wrapped around his torso and legs, running up his arms and over his shoulder blades, crawling up his neck and wrapping around his forehead and temple. His hair stuck up in tufts, now clean and not coated in grease. The young hero had screamed when they'd tried to place the IV in his thigh, both wrists having been locked away in a red and blue cast. Meaning they couldn't give him any antibiotics other than pills, which were even harder to manufacture for him with his metabolism.

Peter sipped on a straw, Tony's free hand holding the smoothie that held some ground antibiotics that Tony was almost sure wouldn't do much no matter how much he hoped it would.

"How are you feeling Bambi?" The worried father asked, to which Peter shrugged. Not wanting to admit that his body ached with every breath, having not had the proper medication to treat his lungs yet.  Tony frowned, hoping for a real answer other than a simple he wasn't sure.

"You think we can get a proper IV set now?" He prodded, and Peter honestly looked betrayed at the question and looked away from his father.

"Peter, Peter look at me,"

Peter did, eyes prickling with tears.

"If you think I'd let anyone hurt you while you're here in my arms, you're wrong, sweetheart," With a sniffle Peter nodded, eyes squeezing shut before burying his face in the older man's throat. Helen Cho stepped forward, carefully moving a line of gauze that held to the boy's thigh before poking the needle in and sliding the gauze back in place.

"All done," she assured, with a smile, watching as Tony caressed his son's hair.

\---

Peter struggled to find a comfortable position to sleep, both arms locked in a cast and a percentage of body twinged in pain with the slightest bout of pressure.

"Dad!" Peter's hoarse voice called, knowing his father couldn't actually hear him down the hall. FRIDAY called the man in, and he was quick to check on the child.

"Yeah, baby?"

Wincing as he pulled himself up, Tony's eyes widened in fear trying to usher Peter back down but Peter simply dropped his head against his father's chest, not reaching out to hold on, just resting against the older man's heart. 

Tony placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck, before crawling up onto the bed and laying Peter out on his chest.

Peter fell asleep in seconds. While Tony didn't think he would ever sleep again, not when his son had been so cruelly hurt without him being the first one to bust down the door and hold him in his arms. But if it didn't bother Peter, the least he could do was be there for him now.


End file.
